


Orchestrated Machinations

by Aurlana



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Failed Assassination Attempt, Fake Date Zevran, First Kisses, Fluff and Smut, Insecurities and Comfort, King Alistair, M/M, Masquerade Ball, Mutual Pining, Spymaster Leliana, The Winter Palace (Dragon Age), body worshiping, eventual Porn with Feelings, falling in love through dancing, post Inquisition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 16:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20745398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurlana/pseuds/Aurlana
Summary: Alistair has been invited to another dreaded masquerade ball. Leliana arranges for this event to be not so dreaded, after all.





	1. The Set Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rhovanel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhovanel/gifts).

> **Black Emporium Prompt-Fill 2019**
> 
> My dearest, Rhovanel,
> 
> I did my best to weave in as many of your ideas, likes, and relationship likes as would naturally fit into the web of the story. I had such a great time. Thank you for providing such a well thought-out request list, it truly was a pleasure to work from. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it. :)
> 
> **Original prompt posted in the end notes.**

* * *

**Orchestrated Machinations**

**The Set-Up**

* * *

**Denerim**

Alistair burst into Leliana’s office waving around a gilded letter. “This is a disaster!” he fumed.

Leliana frowned as he locked the door behind him. “Please calm yourself, sire.”

“Don’t you dare, _ sire _ me.” He glared at his spymaster. “We’ve known each other too long and been through too much shit together for you to place me on that pedestal.” Alistair took off his crown and set it loudly on her desk. “This has to be your fault”

“How is this my fault?” she inquired, leaning back in her chair, steepling her fingers.

“Ever since the Inquisition dissolved and you joined my staff, certain people have begun vying for my attention.” Alistair eyed her, pointedly. “They couldn’t care less about_ the bastard king _five years ago, but now that you are working for me, they have suddenly become very interested in my social life.” 

“Well, you are powerful, handsome, and still single. Bedding the King of Ferelden would open doors for a beneficial alliance while simultaneously easing some of your… frustrations.”

“B-bedding me? What? No!” Alistair sputtered. 

Leliana stood up and rounded her desk. “Aww look at you, still virginal and blushing after all these years.” 

Alistair growled, “I am not a v-- Maker’s sake.” He groaned. “Having you at my side again is going to be the death of me. And why are you suddenly so interested in my non-existent personal life, anyway?”

She sidled up to Alistair and kissed him on the cheek while snatching the envelope from his hands. “I happen to care very much about my best friend being alone. It has been far too long since you’ve sought out certain pleasures, no?”

“How would you know when I last--”

Leliana leveled him with _ the look. _ “Seven years ago. You had a rendezvous at the Hanged Man with Isabela and that man with the very large--”

“Maker, Lel! Point taken! And you weren’t even working for me back then.” He sighed. “It’s pretty scary that you happen to know _ everything,_ you know that?”

“It is my job,_ sire.” _ She winked. “And it _ is _why you hired me.”

“One of the reasons.” He smirked. “It seems, even after all these years, I am still unable to refuse a direct order from your lovely wife, either.” 

“Are you saying that the Hero of Ferelden gave you an order and _ that’s _ the only reason you hired me?” Leliana pouted.

Alistair pulled her into a hug. “I’ve already said you were scary; what other reason do I need to have you taking care of all the dirty jobs no one wants to know about. Besides,” he kissed her on top of the head, “there are very few people in the world that I’ve ever trusted with my life. You and Lyna rank highest on that list.” 

She melted into his embrace, a comfortable reassurance for them both. “There used to be more of us. Duncan and Wynne, for starters, but they both now rest at the Maker’s side.” She paused, thinking. “And then there was Z--”

“Don’t… please.” Alistair suddenly pulled away, rubbing his temple. “Please don’t remind me of ...that... Not that it ever amounted to anything.” He sighed, heavily. “It’s true, there was a time that I trusted him with my life and I would have trusted him with more, but we were busy, focused on the job at hand… and I couldn’t… I never.” He paused, making a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “Then Lyna put me on this damned throne and... he left. I can’t really blame him for not wanting to stick around. It’s not like he had anything worthwhile to hold him here. So please, Leli, just… don’t.”

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again and narrowed her eyes. “You are worth far more than you give yourself credit for.” She poked him in the chest, enunciating each point. “You are the kindest, most generous, and fiercely loyal man that I have ever had the pleasure of calling my friend. You are a good man and an excellent King. You, more than anyone, deserve to be happy.” 

He rubbed his chest and lowered his eyes. “I was a coward and a fool back then, but it turned out okay; I am not unhappy now.” He looked up with a soft smile. “I have you to keep my life from getting dull, for starters.” He winked at her earning him a soft smack on the shoulder.

“Be that as it may, this Ball might be just the excuse you need to get out of your head for a while. The recent threats on your life and your nagging retinue are cramping my style. We need to let our hair down and have a little fun!”

“My hair is perfectly fine the way it is.” Alistair ran his fingers through it, making it stick up in even more directions. “And how can playing dress up at Celene and Briala’s engagement party be what I need? I’ve never enjoyed masquerade balls; that’s _ your _thing.” He poured two glasses of Antivan brandy and handed one over.

She took a dainty sip as she eyed the invitation with calculated interest.

Alistair groaned. “I know that look. That’s the look that is going to get me all gussied up just so you can go to another fancy-shoe-party.” 

“This is an opportunity we shouldn’t overlook,” she said. “I know these types of parties aren’t really your thing, but don’t you see how momentous this is? Not only is the Crown of Orlais getting married, but she is marrying a commoner, an elf! You are the King of Ferelden. This is the equality you’ve been fighting for since you took the throne. You have to be there to show your support.”

“Yes, yes, I get it. But, Lel, the invitation insists on me bringing a date.” He sighed. “How am I going to find someone suitable between now and then?”

With a devious grin, she said, “You just leave that to me.”

“Famous last words that strike true fear into kings and commoners alike...” He downed the last of his brandy. “Fine. I will be your dress up doll for the event and will happily play the part of devoted boyfriend to whomever you put on my arm. I will beg if I have to, but please, don’t set me up with some dainty flower that needs to be coddled and protected.” He shuddered. “With all the recent threats, I’d rather have someone that could fight at my side if the need arose.”

She tapped her chin, thoughtfully. “I might have someone in mind. Don’t you worry your pretty little head. If they agree, rest assured, they can tie their own boots, carry on an intelligent conversation, and hold their own while watching your backside. I mean...” She giggled. “...watching your back.” 

“You think you’re so funny,” he said, glaring at her fondly. “Well, when you contact this mythical person, you should find out their ring and crown size too. I might need to marry someone _ that _perfect immediately.” He tousled her hair and grinned. “And while you’re writing all my pretty speeches, and making sure I know which leg goes in my trousers first, can you put in a word with the chefs? The last time I was in Orlais, the cheese tasted of despair! Who does that? It’s so wrong!”

Leliana chuckled. “It will be as you say, _ sire _.” She curtsied, mockingly. “No despairing cheeses, an appropriate date for the party, and knowledge of how to dress yourself. You can count on me.”

Alistair rolled his eyes and opened the secret door that led from her private office to his. “I will be… hiding somewhere, conveniently away from all of my responsibilities. You can survive without me for an hour or so, can’t you?”

He blew her a kiss and slipped out, trusting Leliana to handle things while he wrapped his head around the event to come.


	2. Preparations and a Party

* * *

**Orchestrated Machinations**

**Preparations and a Party **

* * *

**Orlais**

Alistair paced around his apartments at the Winter palace. It was opulent and stuffy — everything he hated about the Maker-forsaken country. He longed for his own bed, clothes, and the familiar food of his homeland. The last season’s worth of preparations went by in a blur. Leliana meticulously planned out everything. He knew every word of every speech she’d required him to learn, leaving nothing to chance. He’d proven it to himself time and again, the more prepared he was, the less likely he was to stumble and trip over his own tongue. Which meant that his carefully constructed _ kingly _facade would stay right where he needed it to. In theory, anyway.

He didn’t know where he would be without Leliana. She took care of every tiny detail: from the dates of travel and his carefully selected security team, down to his wardrobe and his fashionable, yet comfortable, boots. 

Looking down at the supple Antivan leather on his feet, Alistair thought fondly of a similar pair of boots that they’d found in a locked chest in the town of Haven during the Fifth Blight. Leliana had handed them to him with a knowing smirk so he could give them to Zevran. In the end, he’d chickened out and made Lyna give them to him instead. It was enough, at the time, to see how much Zevran loved those boots. There have been times since, when he’d wondered how different things would be if he’d had the courage to do things differently.

He sighed, heavily. He hadn’t heard from Zevran since just after they defeated the archdemon. There was a moment in their excited revelry when they hugged and Alistair thought that their grips were a bit too tight and their gazes lingered just a touch longer than mere friends, but then the whirlwind... congratulations, preparations, and... _ duty _. 

_ Always fucking duty. For once, I’d like to take something just for me! _

One thing led to another and before he knew it, Alistair was at his coronation and Zevran offered up a single wave from across the room before slipping silently out the door.

If Alistair had known that was going to be the last time he would see Zevran, he would have…

_ Would have what _? Stopped everything to chase after him? Declared his undying love in front of a group that barely accepted his claim to the throne? Alistair scoffed. That would have gone over well. A royal bastard with his elven assassin lover… Alistair shook his head. Not back then, surely. But now? With Celene and Briala breaking down those barriers, perhaps things could be different. 

_ ...for someone else. _

Alistair rolled his eyes at himself. He’d tried to find Zevran over the years, even asked Leliana for help. But when it came to secrets, she was the master. For all he knew, Zevran had finally been captured by the Crows and killed for failing in his contract to kill them. 

_ No. Anything but that! _

Alistair refused to believe that Zevran was dead, perhaps he just didn’t want to be found. The fact that he didn’t want Alistair to find him spoke volumes of how much Zevran really thought of him. 

_ Too young and inexperienced to be worth the trouble. _

_ Probably. _

Hearing chimes from the main hall, Alistair knew it was almost time. Time to come out of his safe little rooms, time to put on his _ Kingly _ persona, time to pretend to be charming, confident, and everything everyone else expected of him. Get in, make his rounds, dance the required dance, smile, make nice, and when Leliana gave him the okay, he could finally make his escape. He was familiar with his role; he knew it by heart. What he didn’t know was who was supposed to be playing the part of his _ long lost secret lover _tonight. This was Leliana’s little ploy to tantalize the gentry and ruffle a few feathers; a heartfelt reunion in front of everyone. She certainly loved playing the game.

Alistair rolled his eyes again, sliding his gilded gryphon mask into place. He had no idea who she found to fill those shoes tonight. He had few friends and even fewer he would trust to do this job. But Leliana was keeping her gleeful little secret and, for whatever reason, he trusted her to make this work. It didn’t matter._ It shouldn’t matter._ Whoever she hired to play the role tonight would, no doubt, do well enough on his arm and would be paid well to disappear again afterward, leaving him to his solitude in the aftermath. 

_ It’s better this way. _

As the second chime rang, he took one last look at himself in the mirror, he had to admit that Leliana didn’t do a bad job in her attire selection. Dressed all in black with sashing and accents in a deep gold that matched his eyes, Alistair had to hand it to her for successfully combining his own preference for practical and comfortable with her image of what proper Orlesian attire should look like. 

Passing a hand down the griffon etched buttons on the front of his suit, he did a last minute check that the few blades he had hidden on him were not affecting the line and cut of his outfit. Leliana would definitely have his head if he messed _ that _ up.

With a deep breath, he straightened his shoulders and let it out slowly, relaxing into his usual _ regal _ posture. 

“For better or for worse, Al,” he said out loud to his reflection. “It’s showtime.”

**~*~**

He spotted Leliana as soon as he entered the Vestibule. Her back was to him as she leaned in closely to the person in front of her. His date, surely. Leliana’s body language was relaxed and familiar, almost fond. He knew from experience that Leliana still had her attention on the room around her and her spies lurking in every nook and cranny, she was never as unconcerned and heedless as she led people to believe.

Alistair was stopped several times on his way across the room. Each time, he responded politely and apologetically, with promises to speak more later. Catching little glimpses of his date, his interest definitely piqued. Blonde hair and a single pointed ear was all he’d been able to see, but it was enough to get his hopes up. 

_ Lyna? _

Surely Leliana wouldn’t have convinced her own wife to pose as his lover for this event. In reality, there were only a handful of privileged individuals who knew that Leliana and Lyna were married. But, he supposed, of anyone, that story would be more believable than anything he could have come up with. It was well known that he and Lyna were very close during the Blight… and there had been speculations. 

What in the world would Lyna be doing here, though? Warden Mahariel was supposed to be on the other side of the world chasing legends about curing the calling, but no one had _ officially _heard from her since she’d sent a few gifts to aid the Inquisition. Ever since the Corypheus scare of 9:42 Dragon, the threat was as real as ever for them, and she’d promised him that she would do everything in her power to cure them. 

When Leliana assured him that he would trust his _ date _ with his life, he never suspected she’d get the first person he ever vowed to lay his own down for. His best friend and confidant when the whole world felt like it was going to shit. He sped up, thinking of nothing other than reconnecting with one of his dearest friends. Placing a hand on Leliana’s shoulder so he could see past her, his eyes widened in surprise at who she was actually speaking to. 

Same height as Lyna, same delicate pointed ears, similar blonde wavy hair, equally as deadly, but in different ways. He was dressed to match Alistair’s impeccable suit and supple Antivan leather boots --now the Antivan leather made sense-- the only difference in their outfits was the mask… his was bird-shaped and adorned with iridescent black feathers, the telltale tattoos barely peeking out beneath the mask on the left side of his otherwise, perfect face. Definitely _ not _ Lyna.

_ Zevran. _

Alistair’s breath hitched and his suave greeting died on his lips. Of all the people he thought never to see again --but dearly wished he could-- Zevran was at the top of the list. When Zevran slipped out the door at his coronation, a piece of Alistair slipped out the door with him. He thought, for sure, that he’d lost his chance. He’d ached for him, wanted him, but never found the courage to ask. Darkspawn, he could face. Rejection over his unrequited crush was something else entirely. 

As Alistair stood there with his mouth hanging open, Zevran, thankfully, was right there to cover for his shocked silence. He bowed deeply, then took Alistair’s hand, kissing the back of it lightly. “Mi amore,” Zevran said, voice tinged with regret, uncharacteristic uncertainty, and something more… _ hope_? “It has been far too long, no? When I received your missive explaining that you wished for us to attend this Ball together, I couldn’t wait to be at your side once again.” Zevran stepped into Alistair’s personal space. “And with the union of Celene and Briala being so widely accepted, it brings to light something that I never thought I could have. Is it not glorious?”

Brain finally on board again, Alistair closed the distance between them and chastly kissed Zevran on the cheek, right over his tattoo, as he’d always wanted to do. Clearing his throat, he remembered the script Leliana forced him to learn. “It fills my heart with joy to see you again, my love.” Years of practice on the throne, the only thing keeping him from stuttering over the endearment. “I am so glad that you were able to join me for this. I’ve… missed you.” The latter was not in the script, but Alistair couldn’t help throwing it in. It was the truth, after all. Zevran didn’t have to know exactly _ how _ true it was.

Pleasantries exchanged, he turned back to Leliana, sure she could tell just how shocked he really was beneath his calm facade and gilded mask. He was met with her insufferable knowing smirk. 

“The two of you are as beautiful together as I remember,” she said, loud enough to assuage the eavesdroppers. Leaning in close, she pulled them both into a hug and whispered, “I will be scouting the perimeter with my team. I expect you to watch each other’s backs and be careful out there; there have been more threats of late. I have a feeling we won’t have to wait much longer to find out who has been behind them. I will find ways to check in frequently.” She backed up and grinned, stating loudly, “You two lovebirds have fun now.” She patted them both on the shoulders and sauntered off, leaving Alistair alone with his thoughts… and his date.

_ Well, shit. _


	3. Zevran

* * *

**Orchestrated Machinations**

**Zevran**

* * *

Zevran’s warmth at his side radiated through him and warmed his heart. He wasn’t going to pass up this rare gift from Leliana. She’d given him a second chance to do this right. He didn’t care how she managed to get Zevran here, Alistair wasn’t about to let him go again without telling him something. Or perhaps… everything. 

With a shy smile, he turned toward Zevran. “I can’t believe you’re here. I - I mean…” he sputtered. “Thank you for being here...for doing this for me.” He whispered so no one else could hear.

“Believe me when I tell you, there is no place else I would rather be.” Zevran’s smile was captivating, inspiring. Alistair felt like he could spend all night drinking him in and still die parched and unquenched at the end of it. 

Knowing they were being watched, Alistair steadied himself by taking a deep breath and sliding smoothly back into his regal facade. “We shouldn’t keep Celene and Briala waiting on this auspicious occasion,” he said, holding out his arm, which Zevran took without hesitation. With a more confident smile than he really felt, Alistair placed his hand on top of Zevran’s where it lay on his forearm and led him across the room.

Stealing glances at Zevran as they walked, Alistair couldn’t help but admire his fierce beauty. He was handsome as ever and poised, looking every bit the reunited lover he was portraying. The slight shift of his eyes and tightly coiled muscles beneath his cool exterior giving Alistair every reassurance that Zevran was here to protect him as well as look good on his arm. 

_ And, Maker, did he ever look good! _

It was a bit disconcerting. He was both comfortable _ and _unsettled; it was exhilarating in a way he hadn’t felt since the blight. 

_ Since Zevran left. _

Overcoming years of bashfulness and stuttering hadn’t been easy; it still wasn’t. But Alistair had more practice now. Though still feeling every bit of the nervousness coursing through him, it was with manufactured calm that Alistair led Zevran into the Ballroom where they were officially announced. 

They made their way across the floor to congratulate Celene and Briala. Alistair’s speech was well constructed and meant to flatter Celene as an equal. His platitudes for her to have a happy marriage with her betrothed were accepted with gratitude and a knowing look at the elf on his own arm. The blush that graced Alistair’s cheeks had little to do with his acting and everything to do with his desire to truly have the wishes she bestowed on them. Zevran’s answering grin, did little to dissuade his aspiration.

Being together again was easy. They slid seamlessly into their old banter and camaraderie. Forgetting, for a time, that they were there to perform a function, though never once letting their guard down. Alistair and Zevran made their rounds, speaking with all the right people, laughing and joking as if they truly were two lovers separated by circumstance and duty and only now brought together by fate and this fortuitous celebration. 

Zevran was attentive and charming, plying Alistair with cocktails and fine cheeses as they made their rounds and never strayed far from his side. Alistair, in turn, doted on Zevran, lavishing him with complements and appropriately affectionate touches while including him in every conversation. 

Seeing Leliana indicate that he should move toward the dancefloor, Alistair excused them from the most recent group of busibodies wanting their attention. Turning toward Zevran, he bowed formally with his hand extended. “My dearest, might I have the pleasure of the next dance?” 

A quirk of the eyebrow was the only indication Zevran gave that he was surprised by Alistair’s offer. Returning the bow, Zevran accepted Alistair’s hand. “It would be my absolute pleasure. Perhaps the next song will be a less intricate one so I can guide you through the steps,” he replied, helpfully.

Alistair chuckled to himself leading Zevran onto the dancefloor. As the music began, revealing a complicated Orlesian waltz, Alistair took his place confidently and began the intricate steps leading into the first major turn of the dance. 

A little startled at first, Zevran caught up quickly, executing the first turn perfectly with a gleeful laugh. “You have been keeping things from me, mi amore,” he said.

Alistair couldn’t help his return smile as he smoothly executed the next move and pulled Zevran close once again. “Oh? How so?” he asked.

“Your dancing is exquisite, for one. Leliana said we would dance tonight. I did not, however, expect you to take the lead so beautifully.” 

“Does it bother you that I’ve taken the lead… I wouldn’t mind letting you, if you’d prefer,” he said softly while directing Zevran through the next series of movements.

“Not at all. Not now that I’ve seen what you’re capable of, this is quite refreshing to have someone so skilled and handsome to dance with. It has been far too long since I’ve had a worthy partner.” 

“I’ve had to attend many of these parties over the years. Over time, I stopped trying to fight the steps and just started thinking about them as any other form and swordplay footwork. Once I made the adjustment in my mind, the rest came easily.”

“If this is how well you dance, I would love to see more of your… swordwork later. I’m sure it is quite impressive.” Zevran winked.

Alistair nearly missed a step as he sputtered. “You… I… we could--”

“Ah, there is the adorably flustered Alistair I remember so fondly. I was wondering if I would see those cheeks flush so beautifully again tonight.” Zevran executed the next spin with a dramatic flourish, finishing with his chest pressed flush with Alistair’s. “Leliana promised me that I would enjoy tonight immensely, I am happy to say that I am not disappointed in the least.”

Alistair shook his head with a nervous chuckle. “You always could make me blush quicker than anyone else.”

“That is a good thing, I hope?” Zevran asked.

“You have no idea, nor do I think it would matter.” Alistair mumbled, closing his eyes.

A soft touch on his chin had him opening them again. 

“I might have a bit of an idea, but if I am wrong, I would hope that you would trust me enough to enlighten me,” Zevran said, softly. “And please, do not ever think that you do not matter to me, for that would be a grossly inaccurate assumption.”

“Zevran--” Alistair began.

“Shhh, none of that now; I am not finished.” Zevran deflected. “Time has been most kind to you and I am so proud of how you’ve filled the shoes that were so forcefully thrust upon you. I know you never wanted the throne. I only wish--” He sighed, looking away. “I only wish I could have seen more of you over the years.”

Standing side-by-side, they executed the next few steps hand-in-hand before facing each other again. Alistair asked, quietly, “Why didn’t you? It’s not like you didn’t know where I was? Everytime I come or go, there’s a damn herald announcing my presence.”

Zevran ducked his head a bit sheepishly as he spun, dancing with his back against Alistair’s chest. “I’ve been to Denerim several times over the years. I’ve seen… that is--” Alistair spun him back around. “You seemed happy and healthy and everyone in your Kingdom loves you.”

Alistair gaped. “Y-You’ve been… but why… why didn’t you come see me?”

Zevran’s eyes closed behind his mask. “I wanted to. But, you… are a King now. And I wasn’t, I’m not…” Zevran sighed, then smiled sadly. “I am but a humble man with nothing to offer but the blades I carry and the fealty I swear. I am a fairly skilled assassin, but a mediocre thief, at best. These are not skills one such as yourself should be associating with, sire. You deserve so much better.”

“Sire?” Alistair practically growled. The next few turns were executed roughly. There was nothing smooth or graceful about them with Alistair’s anger barely held in check. Pulling Zevran tightly to his chest, he held him tightly searching his eyes through their masks, forgoing the next few movements in favor of swaying slowly together, breathing deeply to calm himself down. “You are an idiot and a fool…” he finally whispered, cupping Zevran’s face with both hands. “And so am I.” Alistair dipped in and got his first taste of Zevran’s lips; sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted. A soft, quick, single press of lips, testing, tasting, seeking. 

_ Perfection_.

The gasps and cheers around them were enough to bring Alistair back to himself. The glowing grin reflected back at him told him everything he needed to know. His youthful infatuation was not nearly as unrequited as he’d believed. With a joyful laugh, he practically floated through the last few steps of the dance, not caring, in the least, when they switched positions and Zevran led him through their last few graceful movements, ending in another kiss as Zevran dipped Alistair deeply. 

Panting breathlessly as he was righted back to standing, Alistair beamed. “This is a conversation we definitely need to continue. However,” he paused and pointed a finger at Zevran. Curling it in and beckoning him closer, he growled into his ear. “Don’t ever call me sire again.” 

A subtle shiver traveled through Zevran and he licked his lips. “Yes, sir.” He winked then led Alistair from the dance floor and over to the refreshment table where Leliana was waiting for them with two glasses of chilled Orlesian wine. 

“Well, that was… exciting.” She pulled them both into an embrace. “And it’s about time too,” she whispered, “I am happy for you both.” 

“Thanks, Lel,” Alistair smiled, wrapping one arm around Zevran’s shoulders and looking at him affectionately. “Any chance you can spring us from here soon? I think we have a few things we should probably discuss, and having an audience for this conversation wouldn’t fit our current… story.” 

“Oh, I think the two of you have made quite a name for yourselves already. I don’t think anyone would be concerned if after that display the two of you returned to your room for the night.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

“Wait...what?” Alistair sputtered. “What do you mean _ our _room?”

“Did she not tell you, mi amore? I am to be sleeping in your chambers tonight, my belongings should have already been delivered. After all, it has been a very long time since we’ve had the opportunity to… shall we say, connect intimately.” Zevran leaned in and whispered, “It will also afford me the best vantage point to protect you while you sleep this evening.” Zevran winked. “I was also hired to… guard that gorgeous body of yours, if you remember. It would be a terrible shame, should something happen to it. If this makes you uncomfortable, we can always make other arrangements. Do you object to this plan?”

Alistair laughed, wrapping both his arms around Zevran. “I have no objection to us sharing. I was just surprised is all. However...” he lowered his voice and continued in a whisper, “I do object to you only being my bodyguard. I think we should get someone else to be our guard… I have a feeling you might be a little preoccupied this evening.” He winked and turned toward Leliana. “Any chance you can find someone else to put on guard duty tonight? Preferably stationed outside the room, and not in it?” 

She grinned and curtseyed. “Of course, _ Sire_. It will be as you wish.” 

“Again with the ‘Sires’.” He groaned as Leliana and Zevran laughed. “I hate you both right now… so very much.”

“No you don’t,” they said in tandem, then turned toward each other and laughed again.

“Now, shoo - both of you.” Leliana took their empty glasses and ushered them off. Go talk… or whatever it is you need to do. I will have your room ready for you when you arrive. Just… don’t get caught doing anything ontward before you get there.” She grinned as Alistair’s cheeks heated up.

“He is adorable when he blushes, no? Zevran asked, threading their arms together again. “Come, mi amore. Let us be off, we have much to discuss.”

Shaking his head, all Alistair could do was follow Zevran out of the Ballroom and through the Vestibule. 

After the kisses they just shared, Alistair would follow him anywhere. 


	4. Sweet Whispers

* * *

**Orchestrated Machinations**

**Sweet Whispers**

* * *

Making their way through the Vestibule, Alistair began to head for the Courtyard when he felt a subtle tug on his arm. “The garden will be full of people,” Zevran whispered. “I would rather have you all to myself while we talk.”

“Where did you have in mind?” Alistair asked.

“The Library should be nice and quiet at this time.” 

“I hate to break it to you, but the Library is usually kept locked during these events,” Alistair protested. With a raised eyebrow from Zevran, Alistair laughed. “Oh… right.”

A little nervous, Alistair kept watch while Zevran knelt before the door to pick the lock. Blinking back the sudden image of Zevran on his knees… doing other things... Alistair quickly turned away again, cheeks aflame. Hearing a soft click as the door swung open, Alistair returned his gaze to find Zevran smirking at him. 

“Whatever thought brought that beautiful flush to your cheeks, I want you to hold onto it, yes? We may need to revisit it later.” Zevran winked salaciously, extending his hand for Alistair to take as he followed him into the blissfully quiet room.

Finding a cozy alcove just over half way down, Alistair and Zevran took a seat, hands still clasped together between them. 

“You have no idea how often I wanted to tell you I was interested. I… didn’t know how and it just never seemed like the right time,” Alistair admitted.

“But, I spent so much time flirting with you; surely you must have known that the feeling was mutual.” 

Alistair shrugged. “I’d hoped, but back then… I was so young and naive and you were so worldly and experienced. Half the time, I thought you were just teasing me. Everyone else was always teasing me, so why would you be any different?” He closed his eyes with a defeated sigh.

“Please, Alistair, look at me.”

Alistair looked up to find Zevran with his mask in his hands, looking earnest. Removing his own, he blinked slowly taking in the beautiful tanned skin in front of him. The soft sweeping tattoos were still as beautiful as ever, cascading down the left side of Zevran’s face. There were also a few new scars that weren’t there before. But everything else was the same. The braids keeping Zevran’s long blonde hair out of his eyes; full, beautiful lips, Alistair now knew tasted better than anything he’d ever tasted before; and those piercing eyes that knew far more than he ever let on. Those eyes that were currently looking at him with hope, want, and something Alistair rarely ever associated with Zevran… uncertainty. 

“This is much better, no? Now I can see all of that handsome face when I tell you this: from the day we met, there’s been something about you that has drawn me in. You are unlike anyone I’ve ever known. You are kind, thoughtful, gentle, and yet so fierce and protective in battle that I would need to seek time alone in the evenings afterward, simply to replay how incredibly arousing I found that confident prowess you so rarely let out.”

Alistair dipped his chin with a small, pleased smile.

“But, alas, I am but the son of a whore, sold off to the Crows at the mere age of seven. A slave, a servant, trained and molded to be nothing more than a pawn or weapon for someone else to wield. You were a Prince, now a King. A fierce warrior and leader with a heavy burden on your shoulders; then and now. You deserve someone of your station, someone who can give you what you want.”

“But, I want you.” Alistair said, cupping Zevran’s jaw, stroking his thumb across his cheek. “I’ve only ever wanted you. What do I care about station or noble birth? You and I do not come from such different backgrounds. Neither one of us were wanted by our parents and both of us were sent away when we were young. We weren’t given a choice in our professions either; you were to be a Crow, I was supposed to become a Templar. If it weren’t for the grace of Duncan, I _ would _have been. The Blight was the first time in my life that I was given a choice in how I wanted to live my life. I chose the Grey Wardens; I chose to fight for Ferelden. You chose to fight with us and to turn your back on the Crows.” Alistair hung his head. “It was a year of pure hell, but it was also the best year of my life. Ever since, well… honor and duty are all well and good, but they don’t make me laugh, or keep me warm at night.” 

Zevran wrapped his arms around Alistair, snuggling in under his chin. “We are a couple of fools, no? Too many years wasted, when what we both wanted was sitting there staring right at us.”

Alistair kissed the top of Zevran’s head, smiling at the familiar smell of Zevran’s soap. “We can dwell on all that we’ve missed, or we can enjoy what we have now. We can make this work. I want to make this work,” he whispered the last, squeezing Zevran just a little bit tighter. “I don’t want to watch you walk away in the morning, never to see you again. But, I need to be honest with you, I am tied to Ferelden. As much as I would love to follow you back to Antiva, or wherever you’ve been these past years, I… can’t. And asking you to stay would be selfish of me.”

“I will stay. I want to stay, if you will have me.” Zevran smiled, hopefully.

“You… really? They won’t come looking for you again? I don’t want to put you in danger.”

“My life is always fraught with danger, mi amore. Just as you are part of Ferelden. It is part of the package, I’m afraid. However… I happen to know that there will be no contract taken out on my life should you allow me to return with you to Denerim… not from the Crows anyway.”

“How can you be so sure?” Alistair asked.

“The current Talons and I have an agreement of sorts. You see…” He beckoned Alistair closer and whispered in his ear, “I am The Black Shadow.”

At Alistair’s small intake of breath, Zevran grinned. “Ah, you have heard of me, I see. Good.” 

“You single handedly restructured the Crows,” Alistair said in awe. “When I heard what was happening in Antiva, I feared you’d been involved, but I never thought--”

“Never thought sweet little innocent me could pull off something so extravagant?” 

“No… it’s not that, I just.” Alistair sighed. “Maker’s breath. This isn’t coming out right.”

Zevran chuckled. “It is okay. Please allow me to explain. When I went back to Antiva, there was still the contract on my life. This I expected, but what I did not expect was all the contracts out on the few friends that I made while in Ferelden: Lyna, Leliana… you. It took many years to find the sources and eradicate those contracts. At first I laughed at the rumors and name they’d given me. But after a time, I used that fear the name afforded to my advantage. I used it to… as you say, restructure the Crows to work _ for _me instead of against me. There are no current contracts out on us, nor will there be any accepted in the future.”

“But, don’t you have to be there to make sure it stays that way?”

“I am not much more than a passive participant anymore. The Crows run and govern themselves, but any high profile contracts do still pass through me for approval. And, as the King of Ferelden, you definitely qualify as high profile. Regardless, I can oversee those cases from anywhere.” Zevran grinned. “So if you truly wish for me to-- mmph.”

Alistair sealed their lips together before Zevran could finish his thought. It didn’t matter; the specifics they would figure out. Zevran wanted to be with him, wanted to return home with him and that’s all that mattered at the moment. 

Zevran’s returning kiss was urgent and demanding. Climbing onto Alistair’s lap, he settled in with a leg on either side of him, dragging a soft moan from each of them. Just as Alistair’s hands landed on Zevran’s hips and started directing them to rock deliciously, the library door opened loudly and several sets of footsteps shuffled inside. 


	5. The Failed Assassination Attempt

* * *

**Orchestrated Machinations**

**The Failed Assassination Attempt**

* * *

“It was unlocked,” an effeminate voice said.

“Of course it was, you idiot! I told you that I saw him come this way.”

“Shhh. Do you want him to hear us? You’ll ruin the surprise!”

A deep, rumbling voice chuckled, low and threatening. “I don’t care if he hears us coming, we’ll have him more than outnumbered anyway. As long as the job is done and we make it out alive, we’ll get paid handsomely for taking out the King.”

Zevran placed a single finger over his lips as he crawled off Alistair’s lap and silently retrieved two daggers from his person. Alistair produced two daggers of his own, counting the voices and footsteps of their uninvited guests. He held up six fingers with a quirk of his eyebrow asking for confirmation. 

Zevran shook his head and added another three fingers to the count. Alistair shrugged and rolled his shoulders; they’d faced worse odds before. As the footsteps drew closer, Zevran crouched low in the shadow of the bookshelf, nearly disappearing. 

With a deep breath, Alistair emerged from the stacks, walking almost all the way across the aisle so his back was to the other alcove. “Did my ears deceive me? Or were you looking for a King?” Alistair bantered lightly, tossing one of his daggers flippantly in the air and catching it. 

He looked around overdramatically and leveled the small group with a bored stare while assessing them. They were all armed and armored lightly -- an almost equal mix of men and women. Most held their weapons with some confidence, but others looked like this was their first time holding a sword. Zevran was right about the number too, damn he was good.

Without missing a beat, Alistair continued, “Since I am the only monarch present, is there something I can do for you? A royal decree that everyday at midday, cheese should be served on silver platters? I’ve been trying to get that one passed for years, but alas, no one will listen to me.” 

They fanned out around Alistair, none of them paying any attention to the alcove behind them.

_ Good. _

“You all alone?” The largest one in front asked. “Not very wise of you, now is it? Your consort probably got bored with you all ready._ Fucking nobel. _ I bet you’re in here throwing a pity-party ‘cause you didn’t get your way.”

Alistair shrugged. “I’m certainly not alone now. Parties you see, not really my thing. And it’s been said, more times than I’d care to admit, that I’m not a wise man and am unable to take care of myself.” He grinned and stepped into his fighting stance. “Though, that would be a gravely incorrect assumption.”

Alistair deflected the first blow and smashed his elbow into the guy’s nose just as two in the back went down in a surprised tumble of limbs.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” Zevran chided. “One should always look behind them before engaging in battle; chances are, the target is not working alone.” 

Alistair stepped back and took out another attacker with a sickening crunch to the knee. As she toppled over and her sword went skittering across the floor, Alistair saw Zevran turn to focus on three more, but didn’t seem to notice a fourth coming up behind him. With a quick flick of his wrist, Alistair loosed a dagger, burying it in her throat. He winked at Zevran’s stunned blink and shouted, “You’re welcome,” before turning toward his next target who had his sword held too high in an untrained overhead swing. With a sidestep and a turn, he caught the crossguard with his remaining dagger and twisted it out of his grip and into his own. With a well placed shove, the now unarmed idiot, fell over one of the bodies on the floor, scrambled to his feet, and fled toward the door. 

“Just like old times, eh Zev?” Alistair called out, running another one through with his pilfered longsword.

“Ah yes, so it is! Very exhilarating. We should do this more often, mi amore. Oh how I’ve missed this.” Zevran spun away from his attackers, his blades a beautiful, deadly whirlwind. 

_ Much like Zevran’s re-entrance into my life. _

Alistair twirled his blades, putting his back to Zevran’s while facing the remaining four attackers now circling the two of them. “What do you think, my love? Two dead so far, two won’t be walking again anytime soon, one ran off, and Bloodied-and-Ugly over here has a broken nose. Hmmm, yeah, that looks kind of painful. How many more do you think will have to die before they realize that they’ve picked on the wrong _ helpless _monarch?”

“Helpless?” Zevran laughed while tracking the remaining attackers. “When have you ever been helpless? Though, I do like what you’ve done with the sword and dagger, there. Much better than the sword and shield you used to carry. I approve, wholeheartedly.”

“I have to agree. The shield is a little cumbersome to carry around and isn’t nearly as easy to conceal beneath your clothing. Daggers now… daggers are terribly sexy. I fell in love with them… oh, I’d say about fifteen years ago or so.” 

“You don’t say?” Zevran quipped. “We may have to explore this story about your love of daggers later, I bet it is a rivvetting--”

“Would you two shut up!?” Bloodied-and-Ugly shouted. He motioned for the elf on his right to feint in with an attack, but Alistair knew the drill. He stepped easily out of the way, slicing through the one on his left in the same breath.

“Such a pity.” Zevran said. “That rug she’s bleeding out on was beautiful too.” With a well-timed spin, Zevran took out the other two while Alistair leveled the tip of his blade at Bloodied-and-Ugly. 

“Perhaps if you were to tell us who hired you, we might let you live,” Alistair growled.

Zevran shuddered dramatically. “Ooooh, I love it when you use that voice. It makes me all tingly to hear you so authoritative and in control.”

Alistair rolled his eyes. “Why don’t you tie up the one you hamstringed and the one with the… hey, I’m not sure her knee is supposed to bend that way… might want to be gentle with that one.”

Zev shrugged. “If that is your wish. Though, I have no problem killing all of them and just looting their corpses for evidence either. Less paperwork to fill out after.” 

“Very valid point; I like the way you think. There’s nothing worse than paperwork.” Alistair shuddered. “So… shall we?”

“It would be my pleasure.” Zevran stalked forward only to look up when the door opened and Leliana rushed in, bow drawn with her entourage in tow, one of them dragging the one that got away with them. With a sigh, he lowered his daggers. “I am beginning to not like that door very much, it keeps interrupting my fun.” 

Leliana stalked up to them making sure they were both okay. With a barely noticeable flick of her wrist, Leliana’s guards marched forward, securing the last three surviving assassins and checking the bodies on the floor. Pointing her bow at Bloodied-and-Ugly, she commanded, “Who sent you?!”

He blanched. “Y-you’re The Nightingale! You… I… we.” He gulped audibly and hung his head. “Please, don’t torture me. We were paid to follow orders.”

“Torture huh? They worry more for torture? That _is_ interesting.” Zevran cleaned off his daggers and sheathed them with a smirk. “I have a feeling I’m going to like working with her once again.” 

“Where’s the fun in killing them quickly?” she asked with a wicked smile. 

“All right, you two.” Alistair stepped forward and purposefully cleaned his blade on the front of Bloodied-and-Ugly’s shirt. “So what’s it going to be, big guy? You want to tell me who wants me dead so badly? Or do I give the order for the information to be extracted from you slowly and painfully?” Alistair placed a finger over the guy’s mouth. “Before you answer that, I should probably tell you that over the years, my support of mages has shown no bounds. We work _ very _ well together, in fact. And you know, when The Nightingale came to work for me, she brought several of her own talented mages with her.” 

“They are like family,” she supplied.

Alistair nodded in affirmation. “And you know… these mages are particularly good at their jobs. They’ve worked with my friend here for many years to help… draw out the process, you know? Heal you up, so that The Nightingale can begin fresh and new each time. It is not pretty, but I have to admit, her methods are _ definitely _effective.” He turned his back away from the guy, winking at Leliana who barely hid her own eye roll and smirk.

“Threnn!” he practically shouted, body visibly shaking. “It was Threnn. Please, please don’t give me to The Nightingale, I beg of you. I will tell you anything you need to know.”

Zevran looked confused, but Alistair turned away and growled. “Threnn. Why that sniveling little--”

“Threnn was in Loghain’s army during the battle at Ostagar,” Leliana explained, placing a soothing hand on Alistair’s shoulder. “She was a vehement supporter of him abandoning King Cailan and the Grey Wardens, stating that it was a strategically sound maneuver. When Alistair killed Loghain and took the throne, Threnn swore her fealty publicly, but secretly kept trying to turn Alistair’s subjects against him. She never did anything he was able to charge her for officially, so he spent a lot of those early years putting out her fires. When the Inquisition was in its infancy, I offered for Alistair to send her to me. She was an adequate quartermaster for us for a time, but still her political views were not widely accepted, so we kept her in the ranks as a skilled fighter and nothing more. We were not officially working for or with the King, so her whispers were largely ignored.” Leliana sighed heavily. “I apologize, my friend, I have not kept track of her as I should have after the Inquisition disbanded.”

“It’s not your fault, Lel.” He rubbed his temple, then turned back toward their captive. “You will give Leliana everything she needs to know on how to find Threnn. You said when you came in that you were to collect the rest of your money once the job was done?”

The guy nodded.

“Good. Leliana. Find her. Put an end to this absurdity once and for all. It’s been over fifteen years, for Maker’s sake. That’s way too long to hold a grudge.” He looked at Zevran.

“Would you like me to go with her, Sire?” he asked. “I would be happy to help dismantle this plot against your life.”

With an exasperated groan, he pulled Zevran to his chest and held him tightly. “No, love. She can handle this. You and I have some unfinished business to attend to... and what did I tell you about calling me, Sire?”

“My apologies,” he said, not looking very apologetic at all. “It will be as you wish, mi amore. Though it makes me sad to be the one to break it to you, it looks as if your finery has been soiled and ruined by these ruffians… perhaps our first order of business should be to get your clothes off and--”

Alistair looked at Zevran’s still clean and tidy outfit, then down at the barely visible stains on his own clothes. “It’s only a few drops, Zev. And knowing me, that’s more than likely just something I spilled on myself earlier and has nothing to do with the fight at all.”

“Zevran...” Leliana warned. “Perhaps it is time for you to get _his Highness_ safely to his chambers. You can discuss who spilled what on whom later… and preferably not in front of people who just tried to kill you.”

“Ah yes. That does sound like a better idea.” Zevran held out his hand. “Shall we?”

“Your desire is my command.” Alistair grinned, taking his hand and heading toward the exit.


	6. Intimate Rendezvous

* * *

**Orchestrated Machinations**

**Intimate Rendezvous **

* * *

The trip to their chambers was filled with playful banter, laughter, and frequent stops where one or the other of them was pressed up against the wall and kissed breathless. 

By the time they reached the long hallway leading to their rooms, Alistair couldn’t wait to get Zevran inside and all to himself. But first he needed to get past his security detail. Lace Harding --now the Captain of his Guard and his keeper for the event-- leaned against the door, carefully cleaning her nails with one of her daggers. When she noticed them approaching, she sheathed her blade, straightened her bow, and snapped to attention. 

“Evening, Alistair. Zevran.” She bobbed her head once. “Your room has been made ready and all is secure. Leliana even left some light refreshments and a few other… necessities for you,” she said with a knowing grin. 

Alistair looked around the otherwise empty corridor. “Only one guard this evening, Harding? You and Leliana don’t usually leave me so lightly guarded.”

She rubbed the back of her neck and blushed. “Not light, just… purposefully orchestrated. Leliana didn’t want just anyone guarding the door; you know how tongues can wag in the barracks. So, I will be the only one within earshot tonight, which, by the way, you will totally owe me for. I also have two guards stationed at the end of the hall and routine patrols scheduled throughout the night. Maximum security with minimal effect on your privacy.”

“Just how I like it.” Alistair grinned. 

“By the looks of you, though, you’ve either already taken care of any threats lurking about, or you weren’t really caring about your privacy on your way here.” She winked. “Just couldn’t keep your hands off each other, huh?” 

Alistair looked down. He’d forgotten about the rumpled state of their clothes. “Oh, uh… yeah - in the Library, there were--”

“Nine,” Zevran cut in. “Nine against the two of us, can you believe it? We barely broke a sweat. I am actually a little offended. You’d think that they would have at least given us a bit of a challenge!” Zevran huffed in irritation. 

“How utterly disrespectful of them. Those are terrible odds! I would have sent at least twice that many, maybe even three times. Enough to give you a workout, at least. Apparently they didn’t know their targets at all,” Harding agreed.

Zevran grinned. “_This _ one… we keep. I like her.” He turned to Harding. “I will do one last sweep of the room before _his highness_ and I retire for the evening. Oh and… do knock thrice should the need arise for us to dress for company. Otherwise, consider your King to be… indisposed for the next several hours, at least.” He grinned salaciously and stepped inside, leaving Alistair alone with Harding.

“I like him too.” She grinned. “And if I may say so… happiness looks good on you, _Sire_.”

“Lace,” he said with a frown. “You know how much I hate you calling me that when we are not out on display.” 

“Sorry, Alistair,” she said. “I’m just glad that you’ve finally found something good for yourself, y’know? You deserve it and so much more.”

“Thank you.” He looked at the door wistfully. “And I am happy. I never dared to hope that I could have someone so--” 

Zevran opened the door. “Someone so devilishly handsome? You do flatter me so, my dear Alistair.”

Alistair’s mouth opened and closed of its own accord but no sounds came forth. Zevran, completely shirtless and bare of feet, was a sight to behold. Time had done nothing to diminish his physique; he was utterly breathtaking. Well toned, with wirey --not bulky-- musculature. And the tattoos on his cheek were beautifully echoed down his chest and torso, and disappeared into the waistband of his low hanging breeches. 

“That sounds like your queue. Go get em tiger.” She punched Alistair playfully on the arm. “I’ll be out here… singing to myself to drown out any noises that might be coming from inside.”

“I would recommend singing very loudly then, in two part harmony. Forgive me for taking him away from you, but he and I have some long-overdue business to attend to. Have a pleasant evening, Captain Harding.” Zevran held out his hand to Alistair. “Shall we, mi amore?” 

Alistair took Zevran’s hand and followed him into their room. As the door clicked shut, Harding’s soft giggle could be heard. He should probably be embarrassed, but at the moment, all he could think about was getting his hands… and his mouth… on all that delicious skin in front of him.

When Zevran threw the bolt, Alistair spun him around and pressed him up against the door in a heated kiss. 

“Now, _ that _ is a greeting I can get on board with. But I have to say… you are much too overdressed for this party, my dearest. Please, allow me to assist.” Zevran knelt before Alistair, unlacing his boots and helping him step out of them, then stood while working his way through the buttons on Alistair’s doublet. He rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. “I would like to lodge a formal complaint, your _ Majesty_.” 

Alistair looked at Zevran with a single raised eyebrow as he continued the painstakingly slow process of undoing each button.

“There are far too many of these infernal things in today's fashion. I would like to propose an alternative.” He gripped the fabric on either side of the placket and forcefully ripped them apart. 

Alistair laughed as the buttons went flying. “Well, that’s one way to do it. But you know, I would cause quite the stir, were I to be naked in the throne room. They probably wouldn’t take me seriously at all.”

“You would definitely cause a stir and I think you would have everyone’s undivided attention.” Zevran lifted Alistair’s tunic up and over his head and dropped it to the floor to join his ruined doublet. “Mmmm. I uh… I’m sure there was a very good point to what I was saying, however, what I have here is much more enticing.” 

Zevran began to nibble on Alistair’s ear causing him to moan loudly.

Suddenly, there was a frantic knocking on the door. “At least get away from my post before you tear each other’s clothes off,” Harding hollered. “Maker, you two aren’t going to make my job easy tonight!”

Chuckling an apologetic, “Sorry,” Alistair grabbed two handfulls of Zevran’s ass and lifted him into his arms.

“Mmm,” Zevran moaned, wrapping his legs around Alistair’s waist. “I love being manhandled by you. But, I must confess —as it is very important for us to be clear and honest with one another— I also like to take my share of the control. I am quite versatile, as it were, but I do not like to get caught up in keeping things the same all the time.”

“Maker, how are you so perfect for me?” Alistair kissed Zevran deeply as he walked him across the room.

“Funny,” Zevran said. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

Alistair set Zevran gently down and, cupping his cheeks, gazed lovingly into his eyes. “I’ve been dreaming about being with you like this for so long, I hardly know where to start.” He let his eyes roam freely, his hands following along in their wake. 

“I am yours for the taking, my sweet Alistair. What is it that brings you pleasure? What is it that you desire most? I wish to learn all of these things about you, and so much more this night,” Zevran crooned. 

“I want…” Alistair breathed out slowly. Then with a devious smirk, dropped to his knees and latched onto the laces of Zevran’s pants with his teeth. The fabric was near to bursting with how hard Zevran was, and Alistair was using that to his advantage. While his hands were kneading the round swell of Zevran’s ass, Alistair’s lips, teeth, and tongue deftly loosened Zevran’s breeches.

He hummed in appreciation as he peeled the fabric away. “Do you have something against smallclothes as well?” 

Zevran stepped out of his breeches, kicking them to the side. “There are times when one simply cannot be bothered with all of those extra layers.”

“This definitely is more convenient.” Alistair agreed, licking his lips while eyeing the feast before him. He was larger than Alistair expected him to be, which only excited him more. Wrapping his hand around the thick, hard length of Zevran’s cock, Alistair leaned in to lick a slow circle around the tip. The low moan Zevran rewarded him with was the only encouragement he needed to continue.

Closing his eyes, Alistair took Zevran deep in his throat, savoring the delicious weight on his tongue and basking in the beautiful reality that he was here, now, with Zevran. His greatest wish come true. Alistair worshipped Zevran with his mouth and hands, letting him know how much he was wanted, craved and needed; and that there was nowhere else on Thedas he’d rather be.

Hollowing out his cheeks, Alistair pulled off slowly and kissed his way back up Zevran’s body. After a comparatively chaste kiss to Zevran’s lips, Alistair whispered. “I think I might need you to pinch me.”

“Why is that, mi amore?” Zevran asked, breathlessly.

“Because I’m not entirely sure I’m not dreaming.” Alistair held Zevran’s face in his hands, their eyes locked together. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream, and I’m not going to wake up in my bed, sad and alone.” He couldn’t help the vulnerability in his voice.

“If we are, in fact, dreaming, then I do not ever want to wake up.” Zevran’s hands roamed down Alistair’s chest, then quickly unlaced his breeches. Shoving them, and Alistair’s smalls, to the floor, he ran his hands approvingly up Alistair’s thighs and over the swell of his ass. “You are truly a gift, dearest one,” Zevran said in awe. 

Alistair smiled. “I never took you for such a romantic.” 

“There are many things about me that you have yet to learn.”

“Oh? That sounds promising. In fact…” Alistair lay Zevran down on the bed and crawled up over the top of him. “I can’t wait to learn everything I possibly can about you. What makes you squirm? What makes you moan? What makes you…come?” He kissed Zevran deeply, spending a few extra minutes nibbling on his bottom lip. 

“I wholeheartedly support this area of investigation.” Zevran’s breath hitched as he bucked up into Alistair’s hard body. “I think we should spend many hours exploring this.”

“I want to savor the taste of every part of you.” Alistair kissed and licked his way down Zevran’s chest, then focused his attention on one of his nipples. 

“That is a good place to start as any.”

“Oh, my love, I am just getting started.” Alistair worked his way down Zevran’s body, teased the tip of his cock with a quick flick of his tongue, then, throwing Zevran’s legs up and over his shoulders, Alistair spared barely a feral grin before he licked a broad stripe from Zevran’s tight opening up to his balls.

Zevran’s body went rigid beneath him. “Wait, Alistair, please.” 

His expression full of worry, Alistair crawled back up Zevran’s body. “Are you okay, sweetheart? What’d I do wrong?” 

“Wrong? Maker, nothing. I just… I need a minute, no one has ever…” Zevran actually blushed.

“Wait… never? That can’t be possible,” Alistair exclaimed. “How could you never… wait, do you not like it? I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

“Alistair. No… that is not it. I have just never been on the receiving end. No one…” He cleared his throat, looking away. “No one has ever deemed me worthy of that kind of attention.”

Alistair gently touched Zevran’s chin, angling it up so he could look into his eyes. “Your former lovers were idiots,” he said vehemently.

“It is okay, really. I have gone this long without, I do not need--”

“It is not okay,” Alistair barked, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Softly, he pleaded, “Let me take care of you. Let me do all the things for you that you deserve. Let me show you that you are worthy of love and being loved thoroughly and completely, without reservation. Please, Zev. Please let me.”

Alistair held still — waiting, watching, hoping. Zevran’s eyes misted over and seemed to be searching for something. Finally, he smiled and nodded slowly. “How are you so perfect?” he whispered.

“I’m not so sure about perfect--”

“How about… perfect _ for me, _ then?”

“That, I can live with.” Dipping in for another sweet kiss, Alistair pulled back with a grin. “Lay back, sweetheart. We have all the time in the world to explore each other… tonight, you will let me worship you the way you deserve to be worshipped.” 

“Is that an order, Sire?” Zevran asked with a grin.

“Yes,” Alistair replied, smiling widely. “But… if you’re good --as I know you will be-- I will absolutely let you return the favor later.” 

Zevran kissed Alistair deeply. “I look forward to it.” 

Alistair traced the tattoos on Zevran’s cheek with the tips of his fingers. “You are beautiful like this, do you know that? All sprawled out under me like a feast waiting to be devoured.” He traced the intricate inked designs flowing down Zevran’s chest and abdomen, savoring every hitch in his breathing and soft moan as they were uttered. Eventually settling between Zevran’s legs, Alistair looked up with one last knowing grin before tasting his lover again. He’d barely managed to begin last time; this time there would be no stopping him. 

If he thought his fantasies of having Zevran in bed with him were hot, it was nothing compared to how he really sounded, felt, and tasted. So tight and perfect, as he gave way little-by-little, to the gentle probings of his tongue. “Maker’s breath, what I wouldn’t give for a flask of oil,” Alistair muttered under his breath.

No sooner had he thought the words then he felt a soft tapping on his shoulder. Zevran held out a small vial to him. “It looks like Leliana thought of everything when she prepared the room for us tonight.” 

“Remind me to give that woman a raise,” Alistair quipped, popping the top on the vial and pouring a liberal amount into his hand. Stroking Zevran’s length, once, twice, Alistair then trailed his fingers down to Zevran’s tight entrance, slipping the tip of one finger inside and watched Zevran’s eyes flutter closed. He’d never been with a partner who was as receptive to him as Zevran. It was beautiful; it was glorious. One finger and his tongue, soon turned to two fingers dipping deeply into Zevran, brushing deliberately across his prostate. Not enough to push him over the edge, but just enough to keep him there, riding the wave before backing off again. 

Zevran writhed and bucked under the delicate care of his fingers and tongue. As his balls began to draw up tight, Alistair backed off only enough to let him calm down again. After the third time of taking him close to the brink, Zevran begged, “Alistair, please!”

And really… what else could he say to that?

Pouring a little more oil into his palm, he slicked himself up and positioned himself at Zevran’s entrance. Losing himself in the unfettered affection in Zevran’s eyes, Alistair slowly slid inside of him — inch by beautiful inch. There was nothing else like it. Cupping Zevran’s cheek with his other hand, Alistair buried himself up to the hilt in his tight heat. Once fully seated, he let his eyes close with a soft moan. 

Zevran tipped his hips back much sooner than Alistair was ready for. “W- Wait!” he stuttered, trying to maintain his control. “Please just… give me a moment. You are…” Alistair took a few deep breaths to try to calm down. “Sweet, blessed Maker, you are incredible.” Opening his eyes again, he got lost in the beauty of Zevran. 

Open beneath him, his heart on his sleeve, Zevran was everything he ever wanted -- everything he’d barely dared to dream. As Alistair slowly made love to him, he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was forever. 

Later, as Zevran slept in his arms, his own sleep insistently elusive, Alistair sighed. He couldn't imagine a world without Zevran in it. He never wanted to fall asleep without him again. And he would never have to. He was, after all,_ the King_, and who would dare challenge him on this? For the first time in forever, he was happy and no one --not even assassins sent to kill him, _ the fools _\-- could take that away. 

Zevran snuggled in tighter against him, whispering, "Sleep now, mi amore." 

So Alistair did.

**Author's Note:**

> **Pairing: Alistair/Zevran.** This pair is god-tier, it surprises me every year that it's still technically a rare pair. I always love these two together - Alistair's terrible awkwardness meets Zevran's smooth teasing. I'd love to see an outrageous Zevran, a flustered Alistair, but a genuine connection between the two of them. They both have a lot to offer one another's problems and perspective, and I'd love something that allows them to learn from one another. If you're writing post-DAO, any world state is fine.
> 
> **Possible prompts:** _The ones I ran with and tweaked to work for the story anyway_  
*I would DIE for something set around the time of (or after) Inquisition - give me older, wiser Wardens! How do their paths cross again? How does their experience change their relationship?  
*Zevran infiltrating some kind of fancy event which Alistair is attending (either as king or a Grey Warden representative) - hijinks ensue  
*Post-DAO: Alistair accidentally hires Zevran for a job OR Zevran accidentally takes on a contract against Alistair  
*Fake dating/fake marriage: maybe King Alistair marriages Zevran to secure an alliance with Antiva, maybe they go undercover as married while on Grey Warden business  
*I would also die for anything with these two at the Winter Palace


End file.
